


The Perfect Place

by GentleGiant



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Cutesy, Fluff, Human Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-03-06 17:36:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3142931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GentleGiant/pseuds/GentleGiant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based of the tumblr post "Cas is looking for a new place to live, and his realtor Dean is a babe, and Cas is developing a crush on him. Cas starts making his list of requirements/problems so that he can continue to see Dean."</p>
<p>Switches from Cas to Deans POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One (So original, I know)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Samalander45](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samalander45/gifts).



> This literally my first attempt at writing a story, fan-fiction or otherwise, ever so bare with me. My friend Sam said he liked it and he's practically a professional writer so it must be decent so far. Enjoy ^_^

Chapter 1: Castiel

“Oh, I don’t know… It seems so… blah.” Castiel Novak sighed and slumped his shoulders in defeat. He just couldn’t picture himself living in this tiny studio apartment that sported various shades of a blah white. I mean, who can stand that much white in one room. He wanted something that told people he was creative, colorful, and outgoing not a stick in the mud monkey in a suit. And so far that was proving to be one hell of an issue.

“Blah? Man, how do you ever come to a decision? First one was too big, second one was too narrow, then too high, too many neighbors, too far from the grocery store, not enough space… ” Dean, Castiel’s real estate agent, mumbled. “This place is literally a blank canvas, dude. Thought it would’ve been perfect for your artist needs or somethin’. So what don’t you like about it?” In truth, Dean had a valid point. The never ending white would be a great backdrop for his vibrant photographs, but if he settled with this place, then he wouldn’t have a reason to continue seeing Dean afterwards. He started this ordeal just wanting a cheaper place that he could work in peace. Then he met his realtor, Dean Winchester. Dean, who had the face of an angel lightly dusted with golden freckles, earthy green eyes that held an aged soul, and the fullest lips a guy could pull off and still look masculine. Castiel slowly started noticing more and more of Dean’s personality that made him feel like no one would ever compare. In kind, he added more and more to his ever growing list of complications for the ‘perfect place’ so Dean had to keep looking for place after place after place. Castiel knew he should just settle on a place and end his self-inflicted misery, but he felt that he couldn’t go on without Dean’s sarcastic sass that brightened his day.

Dean cleared his throat in attempt to break the awkward silence that was building. Castiel remembered he had asked him something. He thought for a second too long before opening his mouth to reply when Dean spoke up, “Too clinical I bet, huh? I think you could use a more laid back setting, with maybe mix and match furniture and rock n roll posters clinging to the walls.” Dean glanced back towards Castiel from the doorway with a shit eating grin and Castiel swore he saw what may have been a mocking smirk underneath that smile. “You coming or what? I could really use an ice cold beer after the day I’ve had.”

Castiel followed him out the door and into his black beauty of a car. The door groaned in protest as he pulled it shut. “Are you sure it is appropriate for me to come along with you? I would rather you did not get in trouble and I have to get a new realtor after all the work you have put into helping me.”

“Ah, lighten up Cas, it’s just a few cold ones.” Dean chuckled as he punched at him playfully and Castiel swore he could have felt his hand linger longer than was necessary. “Anyway, you need to relax as well, looking for a place to start over can be pretty stressful.” Castiel visibly sighed and Dean took that as a surrender and pulled out of the driveway and headed toward his favorite bar and grill: The Roadhouse.

Castiel’s stomach grew queasy as he sat down next to Dean at the bar. What am I doing? This isn’t professional and I’m 85% sure Dean’s not sexually interested in men… Dean broke his train of thought by ordering them each a beer off the tap. They drank in a mutual silence for several minutes then mingled and joke or several more, and when Castiel had lost track of what beer he was on the owner, Ellen, came out from the back and told them she had called them a cab. Dean protested loudly with ignorant grunts and a few profanities, Castiel thanked her kindly and followed Dean to the cab. They rode in silence until the cabbie dropped him off first, then pulled away to where ever Dean lived. Castiel barely managed to rid himself of his shoes and belt before he passed out on his twin bed.


	2. Two

Chapter 2: Castiel

Castiel woke when the first bit of light shown on his eyes. He hadn’t thought he had drank enough to be this hung over, but his splitting headache and sensitivity to the light said otherwise. He knew he had better get food into his stomach and rehydrate himself so he rolled out of bed and trudged his way into the kitchen. While his bread was toasting he rested his head against the cool glass of the window and tried to remember what all had happened last night. He clearly remembered agreeing to go to the bar with Dean and downing his first four or five beers, but then things got a bit fuzzy. A few still shots flashed through his mind, though none of them seemed very significant in the grand scheme of things. Mostly satisfied that he hadn’t done anything stupid last night to ruin his growing friendship with Dean, Castiel ate his toast and climbed in the shower… seven digits written in sharpie fading away with the hot water and soap.


	3. Three

Chapter 3: Dean

Dean had gotten carried away last night with the number of beers he allowed himself to drink, and he could clearly see the evidence written down his arm in blue ink. Castiel personal cell 402-696-1983 call me gorgeous. Dean stared in shock at the blue ink wondering if Castiel really meant it, or had just been beyond wasted last night and it was all just a silly joke. After staring at his arm for what felt like eternity he was drawn out of his stupor when his body started protesting the effects of his heavy alcohol consumption the previous night. He made his way to the bathroom to take a hot shower, stripping away his many layers of clothes, and in the mirror caught a glimpse of his blue inked arm. Without a second thought he walked out, jotted the number down on some paper, and returned to his shower.


	4. Four

Chapter 4: Castiel

Castiel wasn’t much of a daydreamer, but that day he frequently found himself thinking of various fictitious encounters with Dean Winchester and most of them ended with some pretty intense kissing. Several times he had to take a few deep breaths to be able to focus on his current photo editing project. It didn’t help that he knew their next scheduled meeting wasn’t until Friday afternoon, a complete three days away.

Wednesday passed in a flurry, Thursday on the other hand, was a bit different. It started when Castiel showed up at work to find a group of seven or eight men waiting outside his office building and remembered today was casting for the male part in his next photography project. He sighed and let the men in out of the cold, today was going to be longer than he thought.

The first three models were okay but they didn’t scream masculinity and did not look good in the hipster style clothing Castiel had picked out, and that’s what he felt he needed for a strong/soft plaid flannel jacket with a scarf wrapped around his neck. He wasn’t a hundred percent decided on what the woman should wear, but he wanted it to both compliment and contrast what the man wore.

Castiel watched as his potential models slowly dwindled. If it hadn’t been for his assistant, Meg, taking shots for his reference files, he probably wouldn’t have been able to remember what the models even looked like let alone their mannerisms and gestures.

“What has you so distracted today Clarence?” asked Meg. She had essentially been his best friend since that night at The Budapest eight years ago, and he told her pretty much everything. Three years ago when he finally admitted to himself that he was gay, she was the first person he had told. Though she told him she already knew, and didn’t care, even started calling him her unicorn. Castiel contemplated making up an excuse as to avoid the oncoming storm of question that were sure to follow should Meg find out he had even the slightest crush on anyone. He groaned, knowing she could easily tell when he was lying, and turned to face her.

“I seem to have developed a sort of-“ He held up his hands and mimed the universal symbol for quotation marks, “ ‘Crush’ on ‘Someone’.” Castiel felt his face flush with heat at the thought of Dean. He was almost sure Meg could see the blush rising to his cheeks, and was eternally grateful when she shrugged it off.

“Oooh, Clarence has a wittle crush on somewun!” Meg pinched his cheeks like he was her three-year-old nephew she never saw. Castiel swatted her hands away and scoffed. “Hey now mister, you should know by now that I live vicariously through you.”

“I do believe you meant to say that the other way around, Meg.” Castiel huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes at her. He knew she was kidding, she was one of the most rebellious people he knew and that was one of the reasons he liked her so much.

“So, back on the topic at hand. Who is this mysterious man of yours?”

“Dean Winchester.” Again, the blush.

“Wait. Dean Winchester as in your current realtor Dean Winchester?”

“Maybe…”

“Gah! You are such an adorable little stud!”

Castiel gave her another eye roll. “Now, if you don’t mind, it’s late and I have a lot of work to catch up on.” He gathered his things and made way for the door.

“Don’t you dare think we are done with this conversation Castiel!” Meg mock shouted, and Castiel was almost sure he heard her mutter, “Crazy Unicorn.”


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter 5: Dean

Tuesday and Wednesday produced nothing for any of his current cases, and trying to find Castiel a house that met his outlandish standards was proving to be a tad more difficult than Dean had originally believed when he first took his ‘case’. Okay, so a lot more difficult. It seemed that every time he felt that he had something that would surely pass Castiel’s odd standards, an even more ridiculous addition pops up. At first it aggravated him more than it should have. What kind of person has so many damn problems with a seemingly perfect place? It drove him insane that he couldn’t close this deal. Later, though, he started to enjoy spending an hour or so every few days with Castiel, even started to think of him as Cas in his thoughts. After the night at the Roadhouse, seeing him loosen up from the alcohol, he even started creeping into his dreams.

Dean was damn near sure he wasn’t gay, at least he had never been attracted to another male, romantically or sexually, in his entire life. But the way Cas was starting to make him feel, well, it was scaring him. He was a 28 year-old, grown man who wasn’t scared of anything and not knowing what these feelings were gave him the worst case of anxiety, and he was a Winchester.

He needed a distraction, and now. He walked out to his garage and began fiddling under the impala’s hood. Fine tuning Baby was always relaxing and he knew he could get lost in the meditation it brought, so when Sam walked in a few hours later it was no surprise to Dean that he had passed through dinner without realizing it. His stomach realized though, and knotted in twisted pains that said it also realized he hadn’t had lunch either.

“Sammy!”

“What do you want, Dean?”

“Hey, what’s with the ‘tude, dude? Heh, that rhymed.” He chuckled to himself in amusement.

“I’ve got a ton of research to do for my final paper, and would like to get on with it while I still have the motivation.” Sam gave Dean the bitch face that just had to be genetic.

“Now, now Sassafras. Was just greeting my baby brother as he came into our humble abode.”

“You seem awfully chipper today.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mmmhmmm. Who was she?”

“Why do you assume it ‘was’?”

“Because you don’t do relationships, Dean. Never have, probably never will.”

“Har-Har. For your information, I did not have any sort of relations with anyone last night. I’ve been too busy with my latest client. He’s beyond picky.” Dean’s chest tightened, almost unnoticeable, at the thought of Cas. Great.

“Mmm. I think you’ve developed yourself a man-crush on this client of yours.” He gave Dean an I-Know-More-Than-You-Realize smile, and walked down the hall to his room.

“Bitch!” He waited a few seconds for the corresponding “Jerk!” that told him they were still good, and B-lined for the kitchen. He didn’t let many people know this, but he was a fantastic cook. He didn’t really know how to cook for just him and Sammy, so there were always leftovers in their fridge. He dug around and found the lasagna from last night and popped it in the microwave and nuked it for a few minutes. Now that Sam had vacated the room, his mind caught up to him and began to wander.

To Cas.

Of course.

Because things weren’t complicated enough already. He didn’t know where to begin in the mess of feelings he was still discovering. He liked hanging around Cas, sure, liked the feeling of warmth from head to toe when he was near. Did that mean he was in love with him? Hell if he knew. Like Sam had said: he didn’t do long term relationships, and was in no way an expert on love. Especially gay love, if that’s what this even was.

He was brought from his gay crisis when the microwaved beeped, signaling to the knots in his stomach that they were to be fed soon.


	6. Six

Chapter 6: Castiel

Finally alone with his thoughts, Castiel’s mind began to wander back to the night he went drinking with Dean. He hadn’t thought much of the actual details, other than his initial once over the next morning, favoring to fantasize over how he wished it had ended. Thinking on it now, he realized there were some fuzzy bits in his memory. Castiel was known for having a nearly perfect memory, and with some work he was sure he could piece together the pieces to satisfy his OCD. Castiel decided he would best remember while practicing his nightly yoga routine, and went to change into his yoga clothes.  
He rolled out his mat and dimmed the lights, turning on his ‘Peace of Mind’ playlist. After he’d went through his opening mantras, he let his mind open to his inner being. Allowing it to work through the more muddled memories. Permitting his thoughts to freely flow was something Castiel tried to do every so often, hoping it would keep his stress and anxiety at healthy levels. Today was not that day. As his memories rearranged themselves in order, pulling and twisting to show the missing pieces, his anxiety rose.  
He was mildly content until he got to the part past his alcoholic haze, seeing himself act like a complete buffoon in front of Dean. Who on earth let me near the karaoke machine? Thought Castiel as he remember singing a very off key rendition of ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ to Dean. Dean didn’t seem to mind though, laughing and humming along, and even got up to dance with him after he got off stage. They danced to just about every rock ‘n’ roll song Dean knew (which was basically all of them), and Castiel was all but a dead battery and was headed to sit back at the bar when ‘I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing’ by Areosmith began playing and he felt a firm grasp on his wrist tug him back to the dance floor in a twirl. He spun and collided with a broad chest to find himself face to face with the candy apple green eyes of Dean Winchester.  
“Dance with me, Angel.” Whispered Dean, his voice an octave lower than Castiel was used to.  
“I have been dancing with you all night.” Castiel slurred. He wasn’t even sure Dean could understand him in his intoxicated state.  
“Not to any slow songs, silly. You’ve managed to escape somewhere every time one’s came one. I think you’re avoiding me.” Dean hadn’t had as much to drink as Castiel had and was a good degree more coherent and understandable speech wise. He was also right. Castiel, though practically wasted, had still seemed to know to avoid Dean when the slow songs came on.  
“I-“  
“Nnnnnoppe.” Drawled Dean, a small pop to enunciate that he wasn’t letting Castiel out of his grip.  
“Fine.” He relented. Castiel put one hand on Dean’s shoulder and adjusted the one held in Dean’s hand. It was beyond awkward at first. One, since they were both drunk their sway to the beat was a little more exaggerated, and two, Castiel couldn’t dance for shit. Although it seemed that Dean knew exactly what he was doing, even if it was a little sloppy from the alcohol. Once they set a good rhythm, it was almost delightful and Castiel was more than willing to lay his head on Dean’s shoulder. When the song ended, it took them a few seconds than necessary to pull apart and a song had already begun. Another slow one. A devious smirk found its way to Dean’s smile as he pulled Castiel back towards him and spun the wildly across the dance floor. At one point, he could swear he had seen Ellen next to the Jukebox with a knowing smile on her face.  
That was almost bearable compared to what he remembered came next. After the string of slow songs ended, he had actually fumbled back over to the bar with Dean on his heels, and pulled out a sharpie to write his personal cell number along Dean’s forearm. A phone number he only gave family and very, very close friends, that Dean now had. And to top it all off, he had also scrawled ‘call me, gorgeous’ underneath it. Fantastic. If embarrassing himself with karaoke and awful dancing hadn’t been enough to completely weird Dean out, leave it to Castiel to come on to him like a cheap whore. It’s no wonder he hadn’t gotten a call from him. Though it was probably for the best, in the end Dean would probably forget all about him after he picked a new place. Castiel sighed. How was he going to act normal around Dean tomorrow? All he could really hope for was that he Dean had a less than perfect memory from that night.

*******************************************

Friday morning, Dean rolled out of bed and into the shower. All week he’d been thinking of the previous meeting with Cas and the number he had left on his arm. He hadn’t called though. He was too wrapped up in his feelings and what they meant to actually face them and bring Cas into it. Although he didn’t remember much from that night the next day, as the days went on he was able to piece bits and pieces together until he had about 80% of the whole picture. He remembered Cas serenade him with an awful rendition of Elvis, but it was adorable. Ever since taking Cas’ case, he had found him more than a little uptight. Sure, sometimes a bit of the real him would slip through the cracks, though it was rare. Dean’s almost sure that seeing him let loose and be, well, real, was why he had all but forced him to slow dance with him near the end of the night. He figured since he was highly intoxicated he could blame it all on the alcohol if Cas said anything about it later, and told his worries to get lost and let his feelings take the wheel for one night. It was definetly worth the look of shock on Cas’ face when he had him in his arms slow dancing. But behind that shock, Dean had sworn he’d seen something close to want, and it had taken everything in him to keep from leaning down and kissing Cas. 

He never really addressed his feelings and emotions on anything out of the basic fear of rejection and had no idea how he was gonna face Cas later today without showing anything. But he was a Winchester dammit!, and Winchesters were practically born with a scowl on their face. He could do this, he could smile and say all the right things while around Cas, and not give anything away.


	7. Seven ^_^

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I sense Fluff on the horizon

Castiel stared at the address on his phone, Dean had sent it more than an hour ago and Castiel had been staring at for almost as long. Apparently Dean had gotten wrapped up in another open house and wasn’t going to be able to pick him up as usual. He sighed and got onto his bike to start the 13 mile trek to the house he was to be meeting Dean.  
He got there before Dean and took the time to “freshen up”. He pulled his messenger bag over his head and pulled out his extra shirt, a vest, deodorant, and some cologne. After quadruple checking that no one was around, he pulled of his t-shirt and dried any and all sweat from his body. Satisfied he was clean, he pulled his dress shirt on and buttoned it all the way up, then added the new silver vest he bought impulsively last week. He buttoned it all the way as well. Just as he heard the familiar purr of the Impala’s motor, he sprayed a hefty cloud of cologne and walked through it a few times.  
The Impala pulled in the drive and Castiel heard a few muffled bars of a familiar Elvis song before he met Dean’s eyes and he turned it down, then off. He got out of his black beauty of a car, all rugged leather and plaid, and Castiel couldn’t help it. He snapped a few shots of him as he moved towards him.  
“I know I’m a sweet slice-a-pie, but I didn’t think I was model material.” Joked Dean with a hint of a southern accent that did things to Castiel he didn’t think were possible.  
“Definitely model material, and I should know. I’m the professional.” He got cocky and flirty.  
“Lemme see it.” Said Dean, much closer than he should be.

“Maybe one day.” Replied Castiel as he slipped his camera back into his bag and stood up, coming nose to nose with Dean. “Lead the way.” He said as he swept his arm dramatically towards the entrance. Dean smiled and turned for the door. As soon as his back was towards Castiel, his sudden burst of confidence faltered and he was once again the awkward photographer he was 10 minutes ago, and followed Dean through the door into the little house.  
“Since you seem to be ten kinds of complicated crazy with your cockamamie list, this is one of the two places left that fit every specificity on that list.” The statement caused Castiel’s body to slump with the sudden reality check. This charade was nearly over, meaning he was more than likely never going to see Dean Winchester ever again. It did not sit well with him.

********************************************

Dean could see a change in Cas’s demeanor when he said it, what he wasn’t sure was whether or not it was a slouch of relief or something… else. If only it was the latter..   
“So, shall we begin the tour, Novak?” He asked with much more cool than he felt. Cas only nodded so he continued. “Well, this is the living room,” he said as he turned dramatically with his arms outstretched, “where people do living things. You know, I never really understood why it’s called a living room. I mean, what’s that gonna do? Ward the dead away? Keep people from dying in there? Or-“ He heard a cough cover giggle and realized he’d been rambling. Shit. Ramblin’ mean I’m nervous… Get it together Winchester! Dean turned to look at Cas and the look he got in return had something close to admiration in it. And damn, if it didn’t go straight to his head. I did that. I caused that adorable smile. He couldn’t help but smile in return. “Uh, I’m sorry. Lost my head there for a moment. Let’s go see the kitchen. Right this way Mr. Novak.”  
They went through the house, Dean pointing out all of the pros of the place, secretly stealing glances at Cas as he inspected every nook and cranny top to bottom. Though he felt as if Cas was just putting on an act, what for is what puzzled Dean most.  
“What would you do with a place like this?” asked Cas suddenly.  
Dean was quick on his feet to cover that he had been entranced by his client. “Well, I think I’d start with the kitchen. It’s nice and all, but I prefer stainless steel appliances. A five burner gas oven, French door fridge, an Island with a spice rack in the middle. And the living room, that would become a party pad. Flat screen TV mounted on that wall, glass entertainment beneath it for game consoles, a DVD player, and a stereo system. On either side would be two DVD cases filled to the brim with games and movies and TV show. And we could put a mini fridge full of beer next to the couch.” Dean’s brain caught up with his mouth and he realized he had said ‘we’ instead of ‘I’. Hoping Cas hadn’t caught his slip up, he cleared his throat and soldiered on. “The bedroom would be simplistic. No TV. Instead I’d hang a gazillion photographs and artwork to look at. King sized bed, of course. Super soft bedding and sheets that still breathe, because no one likes waking up gross and sweaty. Especially if you’re feeling especially cuddly.”  
“Cuddly? Never pegged you for the type to cuddle after a one night stand.” He heard Cas mutter.  
“Ooh, been thinking about my sex life, Cas?  
“I- uh- No! I mean, not like-“  
“Relax, man! I’m only messin’ with ya!”  
“Oh. Right. I knew that.” Cute, Cas was flustered over him.  
“Come on, dude. Let’s get outta here. I’ve got a hot date with my couch and a cold beer.”  
“Alright. See you…. When exactly?”   
“I’ve got Tuesday and Friday of next week free,” said Dean as he locked up the quaint house, “So whichever works for you, just shoot me a text.” Dean turned around to see Cas swinging a leg over his bike and made a snap decision. “Oh no, you are seriously not going to ride a bike all the way back to, where ever it is you live.”  
“You don’t even know where I live, Dean. It could be a few block from here.” Replied Cas in a seemingly professional tone.  
“Or it could be 10 plus miles, which is it?”  
Cas looked down defeated, “Thirteen.” He mumbled.  
Dean smiled a smug smile and took Cas’ bike from underneath him and forced it into the ridiculously large trunk of the Impala. “Hop in, Cas.”  
“When did you start shortening my name to Cas?”  
“Not sure, just did.”   
“Oh. Okay.”  
“You no like? I can stop if it bothers you.” He did not wanna stop.  
“No, no. It’s fine.”  
Dean looked over at Cas and smiled. “Good.” Maybe there’s something between us. He thought as he turned the Impala’s key and pulled out of the drive.


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long :) Hope y'all like it

Chapter Eight-Cas  
Thirteen miles had never felt so long.

Castiel was ram-rod straight and practically sitting on the door with his hands folded on top of his bag in his lap, so it was pretty obvious he was uncomfortable. He barely said more than three words at a time, only instructing Dean on how to navigate to his apartment which created tension between the two men.

About a mile from his place, he managed to turn towards Dean. He studied his posture, noticing slight differences from his normal behavior. What was normally the most relaxed and self-assured man Castiel had ever met, he now saw through a different light. Dean looked like he was relaxed but Castiel could see the tension of his body in the way he sat and held the steering wheel, the slight crinkle around his gorgeous green eyes, and especially the look of deep thought that dampened the brightness of his freckled face. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was nervous... thought Castiel.

“Turn right up here, and it’s the large apartment complex on the left.”

Dean only grunted in acknowledgement. 

“Dean?” He asked hesitantly when they pulled in to the parking garage.

“Ya, Cas?”

Now or never, Castiel. Get your act together. “Would you like to come up for some tea? Or coffee if you don’t like tea. Or I may still have some whiskey,” Castiel realized he was rambling and got to the point. “As a way of my thanking you for the ride?” He looked back to Dean and seen him smiling in amusement.

“Sure Cas. Tea sounds great.”

***************************

Whatever had possessed Dean and caused him to practically force Cas to get in the impala had promptly vacated his body as soon as they were headed down the old highway, leaving him a little more than tense. Sure, he wanted to spend some more time with Cas even if he didn’t know why. Oh, you know why protested a tiny voice. So maybe he did know why, he just didn’t want to admit to it just yet. He was fully aware that Cas was gay and did not, under any circumstances, want to let him on to his feelings. If they turned out to be a fluke, then it would only end in Cas’ broken heart and the loss of what Dean was beginning to consider a pretty good friend. 

The whole way there, they had barely spoken. So when he pulled into the parking garage and looked over to see Cas staring, he was a little surprised and flustered. Though it seemed Cas was even more so. 

“Dean?”

“Ya, Cas?”

“Would you like to come up for some tea? Or coffee if you don’t like tea. Or I may still have some whiskey,” Cas paused then added, “as a way of my thanking you for the ride?” Dean watched his mannerisms and silently chuckled. It seemed Cas was nervous. 

Dean knew it was probably a bad idea to be alone with Cas in his place where it wasn’t a formal setting. The night they went to the bar flashed in his memory. Yeah, not a good idea. But when he looked at Cas and seen his deep blue eyes, his mouth betrayed his brain as he smiled and said, “Sure Cas. Tea sounds great.” And he thought maybe it was worth the risk as he saw Cas’ eyes light up. 

They got out of the car and Cas led the way to the elevator. As he would have expected, it was 7 floors of awkwardness filled by the softly playing classical sound of the violin and was more relieved than he would have expected when he heard the ding announcing they had hit the eighth floor. Dean followed Cas down the hall to the last door on the left. Number 89. Dean watched Cas’ back muscles as he dug through his bag in an attempt to find his keys. As he watched, he felt a warmth spread from his face down his back and towards his groin. Not good, not good at all. He knew this had been a bad idea, but noo, he’d done it anyway. Just as he was about to back out and return to the impala, Cas got his keys out and into the door.

“Ha! Got it.” Exclaimed Cas. “Well, welcome to my, uh, humble abode. Or, uh, for now I guess.”   
Dean followed him through the doorway and into a tiny living room with walls stuffed to the brim of photographs. Some were black and white, some were sepia, some were full Technicolor, and others were colorful but seemed to be lacking a few main colors. Dean walked along the walls examining each and every photograph. He didn’t know much about photography, but these, they moved something in him. Something Dean hadn’t felt in a very long time. 

“How do you like your tea?” asked Cas.

“Oh, uh. I’ve actually never drank tea.” Said Dean, still admiring a picture of an elderly couple on a busy street. “Thought I’d give it a try today, so just, make it however you usually do.” 

“Alright then.” 

Dean continued browsing, not noticing Cas following behind him silently. He came to a photo that showed a lone man in a huge, modern house. That alone would have caught his attention, the isolation that he felt when seeing the emptiness brought feelings of his own longing to the surface. But what really caused him to stop was the man himself. The man was facing away from the camera, but it was still painfully obvious that he was gorgeous, and he was wearing an army jacket with holey jeans and combat boots. That was the contrast that drew Dean in, a gorgeously classy house wear a beautifully rugged man stood all alone. It was kind of sad actually. The big house made the man look that much lonelier, and that is what Dean connected with. The utter loneliness of a man in his late twenties who had never held any more than a few flings. His only real relationships between his brother and adoptive father. 

“That’s one of my favorites.” Cas whispered over Dean’s shoulder, causing him to jumped out of his skin. 

“Son of a bitch!” cursed Dean under his breath. “Dude, has anyone ever told you about personal space?” 

“Oh, right. I hadn’t notice how close I was standing to you. I apologize.”

“It’s cool. Just, try not to do it again.”

“I will.”

“So, this is one of your favorites huh?” asked Dean as he turned back to the photo on the wall. “Why?”

Cas walked up to the wall next to Dean, “Well, it’s so simple, yet so… deep. The man appears to be appreciating the house, but when you look closer you can almost see the despair hiding beneath the rough exterior. He’s beautiful.”

Dean looked at the photograph closely, seeing if he could see what Cas saw in it. As he looked, he felt Cas turn to look at him but kept his eyes on the photo. The photo that was beginning to look oddly familiar, that house looked an awful lot like one of the first ones he had shown Cas. “I- Cas, is that-“ Dean turned to face Cas.

“You?”

“Uh, What? No, I was gonna ask if that was the house I showed you a few weeks ago.” He glance back at the photo for a brief second. “Is- Is that me?” he asked. 

“Yes.” barely a whisper

Dean turned back to Cas, “But, how? When?”

“When you had your back turned, talking about the property out back. It just felt, right.” 

“It’s beautiful Cas. You made me look beautiful.” Dean saw the affect his word choice had on Cas, his pupils dilated and his breath quickened.

Cas leaned a bit closer, “I didn’t do anything but press a button. You were already stunning.”

Dean was moving in before he realized it, “You think I’m beautiful?” he asked quietly.

“I do, yes.”

Closer.

“Very much so.”

Dean didn’t know what to say, but his chest was tightening and his body was heating up quickly. His eyes flutter closed and he waited for the kiss he knew would, or should, follow. 

Just then the tea kettle began to scream for attention and they both jumped back. 

“I, uh, I’m going to go pour the tea” mumbled Cas.

Fuck thought Dean I almost kissed him.. He needed to get out of there, quick.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine- Cas

I’m going to go completely and utterly insane… thought Castiel. Dean was sending some extremely mixed signals just now. Castiel quickly made his way to the stove top and grabbed the kettle. He took his time pulling down the tea bags and cups, carefully pouring the boiling water over the singular bag in each cup and then proceeded to bounce the bags in and out of the water by the string. Even when the tea was clearly ready he continued to stir it slowly, aimlessly. He wanted to go back in the living room and tell Dean to push him against the wall and kiss him until he couldn’t think straight. But Castiel was as introverted as the came and continued to stand there, stirring the tea.   
Castiel was still stirring when he heard the heavy footfalls of Deans combat boots headed his way.  
“Hey, Man. I think I’m gonna just take off. I’ve got another house I need to prep for an open house next week.”   
Castiel turned around to face Dean in the doorway, fully planning on telling Dean he had to at least drink his tea first. But he turned a little too quickly and knocked both hot teas off the counter. Trying to catch them proved an absolutely terrible idea when the hot liquids splashed all up his chest and down the front of the rest of his slender body, quickly seeping through the thin material of his dress shirt and slacks.   
“God Fucking Dammit!!!!” howled Castiel, desperately trying to no avail to get the offending liquid away from his sensitive skin. “Motherfuckingteaanyway!!” Dean was by his side in a flash of plaid.  
“Dude, Cas. You need to calm down.” He pulled Castiel towards him and away from the mess on the floor. “We need to get you out of these before that water burns you too badly. Can you get them off, or do you need help? Are your hands badly burned?” Dean’s onslaught of questions shocked Castiel and it took him several moments to answer.  
“I think I can. My chest seemed to have taken the majority of the tea.” He tried to wrestle the buttons of his shirt open but only managed to get the first two undone, the third one beginning to rub his tender fingers more than he could withstand, “Uh, Dean?”  
“I got it. It’s ok.” The sincerity in his voice melted Castiel’s insides as Dean reached forward and began unbuttoning his shirt. Castiel looked at Dean’s face as he concentrated on Castiel’s shirt. He noticed that he had even more freckles than he had thought and they were breath-takingly beautiful, bringing out the golden flecks in Dean’s unrealistically green eyes. Castiel was lost in Dean’s beauty, the hot tea forgotten as it soaked in deeper, until he felt strong hands pushing his shirt over his shoulders and down his arms. His vision focused and he locked eyes with Dean, who hesitated in his movements for a split second before continuing. 

 

Dean’s mind went on autopilot when he had realized that Cas was hurt, and didn’t truly register that he was undressing Cas. Atleast, not until Cas looked up at him. Then he faltered, everything crashing in at once, but something in the way Cas looked at him made him continue. Though he didn’t break eye contact until he had slipped the soiled shirt completely off of Cas’ body.   
He looked down to Cas’ chest and was awestruck. Dean had thought that Cas was some scrawny, nerdy, photographer that didn’t have barely meat on his bones. But he was 110% wrong. Without the loose dress shirt and jacket hiding his form Dean saw that he had a well-defined torso. It was obvious that he did some sort of exercise, and knowing Cas, it was probably some sort of yoga like crap. His arms were well muscled, but not so much that the veins popped out. His chest was toned and Dean could see the ab muscles there rise and fall as Cas tried to control his breathing. Following the length of Cas’ body, he saw the distinct ‘V’ created out of his pelvis and sharply protruding hip bones.  
Cas was gorgeous, and in this moment… Dean had no problem admitting it.   
“Cas..” Dean whispered, not realizing he was speaking aloud until he felt Cas put a hand on the back of his neck grounding him. He looked up into the deep blue pools of Cas’ eyes, and was puzzled by what he saw. Underneath the passionate heat fueling his stare, he saw what felt like fear. “Wha-“  
“Dean.” Breathed Cas at the same time.   
“Yeah, Cas?” asked Dean, watching Cas compose himself.   
He looked Dean square in the face and said, “Kiss me.”  
Dean smiled, like he was just offered everything he’d ever fantasized about in his lifetime, and leaned in to deeply and completely give in to kissing Cas. Forgotten were his questions regarding his sexuality, the look in Cas’ eyes, and whether or not he would feel the same come morning. All that mattered right now was Cas, and only Cas.  
Kissing Cas wasn’t anything like kissing a women. Dean was used to small, soft, pliant lips that took what he gave. Cas was oh so deliciously different. With larger lips than any girl he’d ever kissed, and slightly chapped, he was taking control of their kiss. He kissed Dean with such passion and aggression. His scruff on his freshly shaven jaw line sending electrifying pulses straight down Dean’s spine, curling his toes in his boots. He moaned and pushed forward into their kiss, eliciting a similar moan from Cas.   
Cas trailed his hands around Dean’s neck and down his still clothed chest, which wouldn’t do. He wrestled both the leather jacket and two layers of plaid off of Dean’s body, leaving him in a plain white tee that showed off all the muscles he worked when restoring classic cars. Dean pulled back from their kiss to observe the look on Cas’ face as he admired his body. Dean was not disappointed..  
Cas’ face was quickly reddening as he looked Dean up and down, fueling Dean’s ego.  
“Like what you see, Angel?”  
“I- Yes. Gods, yes.” He looked Dean in the eyes and chastely kissed him. “Wait,” he mumbled and pulled back, “Angel?”  
“It just sort of rolled off my tongue. If you don’t like it…” he trailed off, suddenly insecure.   
“No, no! It’s good. I like it.” Cas smiled and went to kiss Dean again, just as they heard his cell belt out ().   
“Cas, if you answer that…”  
“I know, but its Meg… And I strictly told her not to call me after 3 unless it was an emergency.”  
Dean sighed but released Cas from his hold and watched him round the corner to answer his phone.

 

“Meg, this had better be a life or death emergency, or so help me..”  
“Well…” guilt laced her voice.  
“Meeeeg..” rage laced his.  
“I honestly thought you and Winchester would be at it like rabbits by now and was just going to leave a voicemail-“   
Castiel pulled the phone from his ear as he heard the familiar purr of Dean’s impala’s engine roar to life and peel out. He ran back to the kitchen window and saw the taillights blink as he slowed to round the corner out of sight.  
Cas stood shell-shocked.  
“Clarence? Cas? CASTIEL!?!?!” boomed Meg’s voice from the phone Castiel still held close to his head.  
“Dean… He- He’s gone Meg…”  
“What? How do you mean?”  
“I mean I just watched his precious car take off around the corner!!”   
“Chill, no need to release your anger on me.”  
Castiel took a deep breath and calmed down, “I know. I’m sorry.” And hung up. He placed his phone on the kitchen counter, catching a glimpse of Dean’s leather jacket and shirts still in a crumpled mess on the floor. He left in one hell of a hurry. Bailed is more like it..   
Castiel closed his eyes, sank to the floor, and did what he had refused to do since Balthazar. He cried over another man.


End file.
